Jane Doe

There she was


Left to be seen


But never heard

She couldn’t tell what it was like

She couldn’t describe the pain

The fear

The shock

She was an open book with no words on the page

Others would come and fill in the blanks

Over exaggerate 

Over glorify the wrong things

Crudely understate the things she really held dear

They would force tears even if they didn’t come on their own

Because that is what we do in the face of tragedy

We force our overly stimulated hearts that have become numb from the shock and awe to exhibit true emotions that are as true as the promises made by politicians during an election

She wouldn’t care that some of her friends didn’t show up

She wouldn’t care that it took them so long to find out she was gone

She wouldn’t care that they mispronounced her name 

But it would cause her to cry tears even behind pearly gates to know that no one really understood her

How she craved the light of the moon

How she wanted to fade into the picturesque mountain view 

How she wanted to be a mother

How she desired to be loved 

How she felt seduced by sound

How she wrote her inner most feelings that would explain it all in a tiny red journal that would be tossed with the things members of her family decided didn’t matter

A lifeless body

A pile of flesh colored skin 

Tarnished with bruises, blood, and other unsightly clues to the crime

Would it be wrong to think of her here 

In a place that seemed so perfectly her home


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